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LOVE & BROOMSTICKS by StepUpx_Gryffindor

Format: Novel
Chapters: 35
Word Count: 216,870
Status: WIP

Rating: Mature
Warnings: Strong Language, Mild Violence, Scenes of a Sexual Nature, Substance Use or Abuse, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme

Genres: Humor, Romance, Young Adult
Characters: Lupin, Sirius, F. Longbottom, Lily, James, Pettigrew, OC
Pairings: James/Lily, Sirius/OC, Other Pairing

First Published: 07/23/2006
Last Chapter: 03/09/2015
Last Updated: 03/09/2015


You know what I hate? Having James Potter as your playmate as a child, & then having him turn into an egotistical pig as soon as we both set foot in Hogwarts. All the jokes, teasing, cat-calling... I can't stand it! I can't stand him. James Potter may have that devlishly handsome grin going for him, but I'm not falling for it! I've survived him for 5 years & I'm sure I can make it through my Sixth Year without him... I think?

Chapter 17: Friends, Fights, And Freaky Librarians

“Wow. I never thought I’d say this, but… that was really sweet of him,” Jessica comments.

My face becomes flat.


“I could just tell he was smirking the entire way up the stairs after that last comment!” I argue, as we walk our way to Potions.

“So?” Emma questions as she tags along. Emma’s going to the library, so she thought she’d walk with us until we entered Slughorn’s classroom.

So,” I emphasize, “Smirks and smart ass-ness do not go under the file name SWEET.”

“Still. What James did was very sweet,” Emma presses on.

“Stop. Saying. That.”

“He’s human, Lily, and, for Merlin’s sake- he’s a Gryffindor; he’s bound to have a good amount of decency in him,” Jess debates. We pass a group of giggling Third Years staring at Frank Longbottom while he’s trying to fix his fly. Apparently he walked in the hallway with his fly down revealing Superman covered boxers. Jessica notices this and huffs.

I ignore her. My head is too focused on this counter argument to care about it. 

Decent? Let me tell you about decent.” I straighten my back and fix my bag around my shoulders, adjusting the collar of my uniform while doing so.

“Here we go…” Jessica rolls her eyes for what she knows is coming, and looks off to the side.

“Decent is like that good sweater- you know, the one that keeps you warm even if it’s fallen apart over the years. And it’s decent enough to wear instead of your itchy wool tights. Tights are not decent; they were created by someone with the intention of creating massive wedgies and awkward situations involving someone’s backside, and finding it amusing enough for their own disturbing pleasure. James Potter is that pair of tights.”

“…So James is up your butt?” Jess asks bluntly, not understanding my metaphors too well. I sigh. “Never mind, Jess. Potter isn’t sweet, case and point,” I finish.

“What ever you say,” Emma trails off, in a voice that shows she’s less than convinced. I turn to face her. She’s wearing a smile.

“You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to beat you up. I mean, I would, but then I’d destroy your one chance at happiness with Sirius Black.”

“Oh, God. Never did I think the day would come when those words would come out of your mouth,” Jessica sluggishly comments. I grimace. “You’re right. That’s going to have to take some getting used to…” I scratch the top of my head, pondering about the odd couple. Well, the soon-to-be odd couple.

“You still haven’t talked to him, have you?” Jessica forcefully looks at Emma in the face, a method she uses when ever she really wants to know the truth; that, and the fact that Emma is terrible at lying under extreme pressures. Yeah, Jessica’s face is indeed that extremely pressuring.

“Don’t make me say it, Jessica. You know that I haven’t. But don’t worry, guys, I promise to try and make an effort today,” she tells us with dancing eyes. The kind of dancing eyes that reveal daydreaming- her head is completely in the clouds. She’s either in awe of Sirius (Pfft, AS IF) or she has something on her mind including Sirius, and it’s quite entertaining to her.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask her. Emma looks like a deer in headlights. Apparently she didn’t think I’d catch her while her head was elsewhere, rather than with us. “Uh, nothing-”

“SPIT IT OUT,” Jessica quickly shouts, impatient.

“I was just thinking of how he would react when I approached him, that’s all,” Emma mumbles. “Maybe like one of those happy endings…”

I narrow my eyes at Jess. “You’ve been having quite the temper lately. What’s the deal?”

“It’s between me and what’s-his-face,” Jessica gestures with her hand, shaking it violently above her head. I’m guessing that’s her way of dismissing further questions on that topic?

“That was such a Frank move, love,” I chuckle. Jess looks dangerous. I continue talking, in the hopes of her NOT biting my head off.

“Come on! You know what kind of hand signals Frank is capable of pulling off. He could conduct a symphony orchestra and give directions on how to fly a plane at the same time without speaking if he wanted to,” I say, defending myself.

“Why can’t I have my own concept of gestures? Must everyone in the world be judged on how Frank-y their hand indications are!?” She’s huffing now as she shields her pride.

“Calm down, jeez. All Lily was saying was that she’s seen Frank’s hand movements and it looked similar to yours.”

“Thank you, Emma!” I glance over at Jessica with a smug look on my face. Jessica sticks her tongue out at me, pulling down her bottom eyelid with her finger at the same time. She looks like she belongs in an Anime.

“Stop watching those Anime re-runs on television, Jess,” I say lightly. “Sooner or later you’re going to get your hair cut and walk around trying to trade your Pokemon.”

“Humph! As if there’s anything wrong with watching Anime on Sunday mornings. They’re bloody addictive! I never really knew how talented the artists are at creating their characters. My cousin Clarissa, she was telling me about this comic book she was reading- I think it was called a Manga? Anyway, she let me borrow the book for a couple weeks and I fell in love with this one guy.”

“You WOULD fall for a fictional character,” I tell her, rolling my eyes.

“He was really hot! It’s not my fault he isn’t real…”

“You have a boyfriend, you know. Does Jeff have any clue about your Manga affairs?”

“HA. HA.” Jessica gives me a sarcastic looking face.

Emma chuckles. “So you have a crush on a drawing?”

“You make it sound weirder than it seems! That drawing was fit as a brick. The artist can easily go and erase him at any time. I mean, it’s not my problem to deal with, erasing people I think are cute,” Jessica replies.

“Er, right. That totally makes sense.”

“Shut up, Lily. Let me have my little crush.”

“Hey, I’m not saying anything! It’s just a bit bizarre. And kind of kooky. Her I am, Lilian Evans. No boyfriend. No boy toy-” Emma coughs rather loudly, cutting me off. I snarl at her. “No man for me, whatsoever. And then there’s you,” I point to Jess.


“You have a boyfriend! Someone to hug and kiss you! A guy that could serenade you to sleep if he wanted to; and you’re crushing on an Anime character. Unbelievable.” I shake my head in fake disappointment.

“Wait, now. Any girl can fancy someone who isn’t real! You don’t need to have a man or not have a man to have that privilege. Take Mr. Darcy for example.”

“You’re relating this to a Jane Austen hit?” Emma asks, with her eyebrows raised.

“He’s not real. None of the foxy men in that play are- all the ones we dream about in our heads; all of them figures of our imagination. We paint a picture in our own heads of what he must look like. It’s his attitude and how he’s described in the book that makes him seem so damn attractive.”

“You have a point,” I reason. “But where’s all the fun of daydreaming about fictional boyfriends when you have the real thing right in front of you?

She gives me her ‘listen to me, you idiot’ look. “My boyfriend’s in frickin’ Australia! Yes, AUSTRALIA. The continent all the way south of absolutely NOWHERE!” She practically belts out, hands clenched in fists. “I’m dating a hot rocker boy who can’t hug me, can’t kiss me, and can’t serenade me to sleep; I’m screwed! Sure he sends me lovely letters and such, but it’s not the same. Honestly, I don’t even think it’s the real thing that’s right in front of me, considering the obvious fact… HE’S NOT RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!”

Emma and I are looking at Jessica as if she’s lost it. It wouldn’t be a surprise if she did lose it. It wouldn’t be the first time. Since the she first sentence left her lips, Emma and I stopped walking; so did Jessica. She can’t multitask like that.

I lick my lips and think slowly. “Is there something on your mind, Jess?” There’s no bloody way all this frustration’s come out because of Jeff. I know her like the back of my hand. Jessica’s purse today reveals her short fuse of a temper isn’t to be messed with. Do you think someone with a knock off green alligator-skin bag with teeth marks around the zipper is someone with a lot of patience? Um, NOPE. Those teeth marks came from somewhere, sweetheart.

“Holy blue, Finelly. Shut that hole in your face. No one wants to hear about your relationship problems.”

Oh, no. Not now Frank Longbottom.

“We just passed you and that group of sniggering girls three minutes ago! How in Merlin’s gray undies did you get here before us?” Emma asks him, completely surprised to find that voice belonging to him.

“Ugh, bad visual!” I mentally smack myself.

“Fuck off,” Jessica spits before Frank fully turns his head in her direction.

“Why don’t you show me how that works, Finelly,” Frank almost seethes.

“I’d love to. Give me your wand and I’ll show you where to shove it,” she growls.

“Now, now-” I try to put myself in between their closing frames. Like I’m really going to let Jessica and Frank walk closer to each other? I think not.

“Why don’t you call your boyfriend and ask him to shove his guitar pick up yours. That’d save me the trouble.”

My eyes grow wide. He shouldn’t have ever said anything about Jeff in front of Jessica. I prepare myself by ducking. I don’t want her blaring voice in my ears.

“DICKHEAD! You don’t know what the hell you’re babbling about! And as for certain things protruding out of other people’s bums, you might want to check and see if you put that tampon in sideways, because you’re acting like a real git! You are so insufferable!” There’s smoke coming out of her nostrils. Sweet biscuits, she’s going to explode.

“Let’s stay calm, kids…” I literally have one hand on Frank’s chest and the other on Jessica; I’m keeping them from clawing at each other! This is absurd. The fact that I have to do this on my way to Potions is just beyond me.

“Screw you! I’m more of a man then you are a woman! Everyday you come up to me to start stupid shit, and see which one of us is going to end up taking the piss! I’m insufferable? YOU’RE UNBEARABLY BITCHY!”

“Er, you’re going to be late for Potions…” Emma mumbles to no one in particular. She’s been fidgeting with her hands this whole time. While I’ve been holding the Hoover Dam over here. Thanks, Em. Much appreciated.

“HAH! I’m more of a man than you could ever be! I’m not even a guy and I have more BALLS THAN YOU-”


Jess thinks for a moment before responding. “…WHAT PACKAGE?”

For the first time in my life, I see a side of Frank. A side that looks like it hasn’t made an appearance in years. You know, the kind of face that’s been hibernating for quite some time now... Needless to say, if you really need a mental image, I’ll share a small detail with you: His eyes are turning red.

“I don’t know what your stupid ‘rocker boy’ sees in you!” He used air quotes! TALKING ABOUT JEFF! That is not a good combination in front of Jessica! Has he learned nothing?!

“Don’t fucking start, Longbottom.”

“Why, Finelly? Afraid I’ll finish it?”

“You don’t know me,” Jess bites. Yes, she did the motion with her teeth just now.

“You’re a bloody piranha! Get those damn manhood choppers away from me, you stupid broad!”

“I can’t, for the life of me, understand why a know-it-all prick like you thinks I can be judged.”





“Same hair color, unfortunately not the same intelligence.”

“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean!?”

“Stereotypically speaking, I’ve met more blondes with a higher IQ, no offense Emma.”
Emma huffs and crosses her arms.

“Why the hell would someone stereotypically speak about higher IQ’s?”

“I was making a stereotypical judgment on your brown locks of dung.” Frank straightens his tie out.

“ARGH!” Jess throws her hands in the air. “Don’t stereotype me! And don’t relate my hair to dung, you poophead!”

“Why can’t I stereotype you? YOU STEREOTYPED ME! All’s fair in-”

“SHOVE. IT. Yes, shove it. Shove it all. All up there, ALL UP THERE,” Jess grunts quickly. “You stereotyped me first!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“You’re mental!” Frank taps her noggin. Jessica angrily swats his hand away.


“You’re off your rocker, Finelly, if you really think I’m going to have this conversation with you.”

“This conversation is far from over, Dungbottom.”

His eyes turn into slits. “Well aren’t you the smart arse.”

“I learn from the best,” Jessica whispers roughly, so only Frank and I can hear. Emma’s head is snapping back and forth. I’m sure she’s snapped her neck enough times that she’s lost the ability to hear anything they spit at each other, so she’s probably resulting in reading their alarming facial looks and very, VERY rude hand gestures.

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, Jessica Finelly, but you need to get your boobs on straight and realize that-”

“Realize what? That you’re a loathsome CREEP of nature?”

Apparently Frank finds that offensive.

“I am not a creep! That’s just weird.”

“And utterly strange,” I say more to myself than at Frank and Jess. They both hear me and look at me, pausing in their feud. “Er, sorry?” I squeak. But before I mumble another word they’re back to bickering at each other.

Wow. I tell you what, wow. Never, in all my days, have I heard Frank Longbottom and Jessica Finelly ever have a blown out argument like this. They’re both off their rocker, if you ask me!

I’ve had enough of this; I’m going to be late for Potions if I don’t do something.

My head is throbbing with all the talking and yelling from both sides. I firmly push my hands outward, making them fly back a few feet. I practically pant while doing this. I feel like one of the three girls in Charlie’s Angels, minus the cool moves.


I pant some more.

Frank and Jessica’s faces become emotionless as they stare at me, not expecting me to yell at them. Emma scratches the top of her head. “Alright… BYE!”

I look at Emma. “Don’t leave me like this,” I desperately whine.

“I’m not getting involved!” She hesitantly puts her hands in front of her, signaling she wants out. “See you around…” Emma says slowly, shrugging before she skips along towards the library. Okay, maybe she doesn’t skip; but she’s walking away! And right now, walking away would be a precious feeling of freedom, like skipping. This is basically what I think of it at the moment. A lock down of all limbs. No frolicking legs of any sort. No bits of nature flowing freely.

And if Frank wants to keep his important manly bits… I suggest he backs off, because I can’t hold Jessica away from him any longer. She’s way stronger than I am.

“Let’s postpone this bitch fest, yeah?” I say strongly, still panting.

Jessica glares at Frank. Frank glares at Jessica. Jessica gives him the finger as we resume walking towards the door to Slughorn’s classroom.

Frank walks backwards since he’s in front, looks at us, and grips his crotch.

Today is going to be a beautiful day.


Two words come to mind when I think of the genius that’s put me in this situation.

Professor Slughorn.

I love the man, really. I do. It’s just that he has this habit, or should I say... curse, of going off in tangents and never finishing his original conversations. I’m used to them, really. But today’s a bit different. Our entire Potions class was abruptly halted by Professor Slughorn only ten minutes after he gave us our assignment. I only got two questions finished before I was forced to glance up at the rotund man in front of me, shouting out about some nonsense. He’d gone bonkers. And now forty minutes of our lesson has passed. But let’s start from the beginning…

First he started talking about finding a paper on his desk and how he momentarily hated trees. Then he started petting his thick caterpillar sized mustache that he probably used Velcro to attach, whilst going off at random students for their incompetence and immaturity about Potions and running away like little sissies to Dumbledore. And after that chaos blew over, he announced that he had been receiving complaints. Complaints that students sent in to the headmaster. Apparently people where not enjoying, nor learning from, the assignments he’d leave up on the board for us to work on as soon as we stepped into his classroom. No hands on Potions experiments or projects/essays assigned for groups to present. I usually thought that it just wasn’t his teaching style. I mean, I’m passing with flying colors.

But I guess others are in danger of failing, since they signed a petition stating that Slughorn’s a bit lacking in 'hands on' learning experiences and is incapable of doing his job because he’s so lazy; which is why he hides off in his office five minutes after Potions begins everyday.

Professor Slughorn found this insulting.


So after he sweated out three gallons of pumpkin juice, screaming at us and telling us how ashamed and thoroughly pissed he was, he finally threw his hands up the in the air and said he was going to show how ‘hands on’ he could be. But really, it came out more like a threat. Now everyone’s working with their partners on some burning formula used for certain hair follicles on the back of a centaur. I didn’t understand the point of making such a potion then, and I still don’t understand it now. Did I forget to mention that I’m not working with Jessica? Oh, no. Of course not. My partner in Potions would never be with the only girl that actually gets me.

Slughorn was amazing enough to pair me up with the only boy that annoys the shit out of me. Besides James.

“Why so blue, Red?” Sirius asks, smirking at his own wittiness.

"I not in the mood right now," I say dryly. “Don’t call me Red.”

“Your never in the mood, Ginger,” he says seductively. I roll my eyes.

This Potions project consists of a potion we have to prepare before the end of class, an essay on the substance a couple days after today, and a chart we need to fill out by writing down all of our data and turning it in for our partnered report. This is a weeklong assignment. Kill me, please.

“Don’t frickin’ call me Ginger. I have a name; a real name.” I swear if he calls me anymore of those redhead names I’m going to shove this dragon seed up his bazooka.

“Who cares? Nicknames are the most important names!”

I try to work on our assignment while being verbally abused by some weird kid.

“Why are you looking at me like I’m weird? I don’t look weird.” Sirius coughs up defensively.

I don’t answer him. “Hey, it’s not my fault we were paired up for this project. So chill out.” He leans back in his chair, and props his feet up on the desk.

“Chill out? I’m practically frozen,” I snap in annoyance. He made me lose count of how many goat hairs I have to add in the cauldron!

“Why do thee despise me so greatly?” He asks, talking in Shakespearian time.

“Not again,” I plea. Great, I’m stuck with Mercutio again.

He ignores my plea and bursts out, “Tell me!”

“Tell you what?” I growl.

“Tell me why you despise me.”

I sigh and put down my knife right next to Sirius.

“Sirius, I don’t despise you. But you are really annoying sometimes. The fact is- you haven’t helped me with anything!”

“Er… ” Sirius mumbles, his eyes not resting off the knife.

I purse my lips. “Stop staring at it; I’m not going to stab you.” I move the knife closer to the cauldron, and find his eyes looking forward towards me. Ah, finally some eye contact!

“When I got paired up with you, I knew two things immediately. I was going to have to do all the work, and-”

“Stare at me because I’m sexy?”

“NO. You were going to bug the crap out of me. And I was right. We only have so many minutes left until class is over, and we need to finish this and get it in the tubes!”

“Hey, I can help! I just didn’t know you’d need me- you’re like a genius in Potions; how was I supposed to know you needed help?”

I give him my ‘wtf’ face. “Dude. You’re my partner. Partner’s work together, no matter who’s smarter.”

“No need to get feisty… Wait! I’m not stupid!”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Yes you did. You called yourself smart. If you’re smart then what am I?”

I snigger. Oh, so many possibilities.

He glares at me. “You’re a mean little redheaded girl.” Sirius crosses his arms.

I scoff, pouring the rest of the potion in the two tubes. “Yeah, well I’m the mean little redheaded girl that got this done without you. So be proud of yourself. A girl had to do it all and she didn’t even have your help.” Finally it’s my turn to nag on Sirius. He hates it when his manliness is threatened.

“Are you comparing my standards to that of a girl?” He asks incredulously. “Oh, no you didn’t!” he fires, snapping in Z formation.

I almost drop my cauldron.

“Unlike the boob beings that we like to call women, we men have the ability to be wittier, smarter, and more seductive. Those are three qualities that will help us men rule the world!”

“I think you’re confusing men with boys. Those three qualities you just mentioned don’t just come with an Adam’s apple. And personally, I know that you will not rule the world; we’d all end up in ashes.”


“Also, those three qualities are those that drive a man crazy. What you meant to say was that men have the ability to be more dimwitted, outsmarted, and seduced.” I smile in triumph.

Sirius gawks. I hand him his flask of the potion as the bell rings. I rise from my seat and push my boobs up with pride. “And don’t call us boob beings.” I turn my head and walk out the door, with the flask of the burning follicle formula in my hand.

I make a beeline for the library since I have a free period until Astronomy, so I can at least get a head start on outlining me and Sirius’s project. I don’t care if he’s going to wimp out; I’m getting a good grade on this. As soon as I walk in I notice how packed it is, with students from almost every year. Luckily, I find a seat right next to Madame Pince.

“Miss Evans! Nice to see you back here this morning. It’s a lovely day isn’t it? Oh, I’m so happy the library’s crowded today! Finally, I have something to do. You have no idea how boring it can get in this library when you have no books to check in, or no shelves to organize, or no more stickers to number off your favorite Nancy Drew stories…” She trails off, and ducks under her large library desk. Within seconds, she pops her head up again and slams a heavy book on the desk with a huge slam.

Alright, maybe finding this particular seat available next to Madame Pince probably wasn’t luck…

“Look! I just got the twelfth edition of the Nancy Drew Chronicles!” She exclaims, her eyes popping out of her head in excitement. I just stare at her.

Nancy Drew has chronicles?

What is this, the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe?!

“There’s such a thing as a one thousand page book on her?” I question in amazement. That book is huge. Like humongous Vernon Dursley huge. The spine of the book is practically the same width as the hardback cover.

“Don’t be silly, Miss Evans; IT’S A THOUSAND AND SEVEN HUNDRED PAGES. Gosh, I can’t believe you children can’t find it in your schedules to make sure you know how many pages are in every book you read! I mean the last eleven editions had one thousand and fourteen pages; well- except the third edition. The third edition was shorter than the rest because the stupid publishing company didn’t feel like using the author’s intended ending, so Nancy Drew had to be re-edited. Rotten scoundrels…”

Oh, she is so anal.

“Er, what? You expect us to memorize how many pages there are in every single book we come here to pick up? And you’re surprised that I missed the seven hundred page mark on your Fancy Nancy Shmancy Novel?”

“Her name is Nancy Drew! And it isn’t a novel- IT’S A CHRONICLE! TWELFTH EDITION!” she screeches. “You should agree with me; all you children should know the length of your books, too! You should also clean the pages regularly and file down the pages once a week to maintain perfection. Not that any of you know about that. You boogers think I can’t see when you leave ink marks in my short story collections! Those collections are five hundred pages full of wizard approved fun! And who has to zap them away for the next Second Years that come to pick them up? ME. All the other story collections are around seventy three pages each and are a complete waste of shelf space, but I don’t understand why Dumbledore insists that I keep them-”

“Okay, alright! SORRY!” I say as hurriedly as humanly possible. I turn around in my wooden chair and try to finally adjust myself, and set my Potions book on the desk. “I’ll just get to work here...”

“It’s mine, mine! My book. Chronicles of Nancy Drew, TWELFTH Edition…twelfth…” Madame Pince mumbles, slowly creeping under her desk again, with her… Uh, Holy Bible cradled to her bosom.

I try to get my mind straight and find some sort of quiet space where my head can go. Maybe there’s a bit of space floating in my mind. I could use that for my own peacefulness. Find my own inner quiet aura, that is. I just witnessed a Nancy Drew deranged woman. This is the last time I’m sitting next to Madame Pince. She’s a residential creeper.

She really needs to get out more.

It’s been twenty minutes since I’ve been researching this follicle thing. I’m getting some notes on how it reacts. And in a couple days, chemical changes are going to happen. I think it has something to do with the fact that it’s a hair burning formula for a centaur. Because all this information about centaur hairs is freaking me out. So the potion has to… ready itself? It goes through a lot of stages, apparently, and the outcome can be in a whole bunch of varieties. It could be murky looking and could  be taken digestively, or it could be grotesque and brown and look like dung, etc.

Huh, that’s weird. You don’t even have to ingest it, they say. You can spot the treatment on any of the centaur’s hairs if it’s finished at the right stage.

I hear the creak of a chair etch itself into my ears; someone’s taken a seat across from me.


I look up.

“Hey, there,” he says uninterestedly, as if he didn’t care about saying hello, he just wanted to take a seat.

I wave pathetically. “Funny running into you here, Crotch Boy,” I say.

Frank just waves back at me without an insult to what I called him.

He never waves. Well, from the time that I’ve gotten to know him this year, he doesn’t wave.

He’s looking around me, as if he’s afraid someone’s going to find him or something.

I glance around me, and land back on Frank Longbottom. “What?” I say hesitantly. “Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.” He stops fidgeting, and brushes his shaggy hair away from his face. He unbuttons the top of his shirt, making his uniform look messier than usual. He pants a bit, as if he’s just ran a mile. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?” he questions, but it sounds more like a groan.

My eyebrows knit together as I look at him thoroughly. “Are you…scared of something?” I close my book quickly, and take a look back at Frank to see his reaction.

He hesitantly looks behind him. “No, not at all.”

I am amused.

“Is Jessica running after you with a blow torch or something?” I ask sweetly, raising my eyebrows like I’m some sort of fairy godmother.

“I find that voice very demeaning. Don’t speak me to me like that again, I’m not a baby,” Frank retorts quite quickly. CORRECTION: at lightning speed.

“What can I do for you, then? You’re not nervous, or scared, or cold. You’re the one that sat in front me, mind you. If you’re not going to say something you might as well leave.”

He actually has the nerve to roll his eyes. “I was just bored. I thought I’d come in here to relax.”

“Right,” I say disbelievingly. “That’s why it looks like your uniform has just vomited all over you and you have sweat stuck to your brow and you look like you’ve just run a marathon.”

“Uncanny and indecisive,” Frank says suddenly, making himself comfortable by leaning back in the chair.

It takes me a while to get what he’s just said. “Wait, you think I’m uncanny and indecisive?” Unbelievable. He’s already got me described in two words, and he just randomly says them while I’m talking!

“You could say that.”

I raise my eyebrow, copying Mr. Bean. Frank bursts out laughing and drops the chair back into place.

“You look like that guy from Johnny English.”

Feeling secretly satisfied that I actually made Frank laugh, I straighten my back out and look him in the eye.

“Why have you portrayed me so?”

He tilts his head to the side. “I dunno. Something about you is kinda strange. I think that you see things differently. I guess you and me have that in common. You seem like the type that lives in her head, so you probably think in a completely unusual way. And I also see that you’re a bit hesitant and uncertain when you do things. Like your afraid your mind won’t approve.”

I’m speechless. I think about the he/she/it living in my mind and how it’s probably lounging in my ear canal, watching a Spanish soap opera. I also remember those few moments, the more recent ones, where I can’t make up my mind.

I.E. every day of my life.

“Now don’t get mad, but I’ve been observing you lately. You and James both. Sometimes it seems like you two switch personalities. Which would explain all his strange behavior from before, and you’re ability to be kind of devious. It’s like you get his marauder wit. And he just becomes a shell of what he is. Both of you seem to be like one without the other, and sometimes- I can feel it. Only when you two are near each other, though. There’s this…energy, I guess you could call it. And since there are parts of you that are immensely diverse, James knows somehow, how to shake those diverse parts of you because it can make you tick. But you, and don’t think I haven’t noticed, glance a lot and look away at random moments when he’s face to face with you.”

He fixes himself so his elbows are resting on the desk. “I catch you staring into space sometimes. Some stuff has shaken you up, eh? That is something your body goes through while you’re being indecisive, like I’ve just concluded.” He knocks on the desk repeatedly with his knuckles, like an old habit, and continues. “What ever you don’t have, James has. What ever he doesn’t have, you seem to be the reason it’s been taken away from him. I dunno if either of you have thought about it, but you both are very interesting people. And you two are more alike than either of you could imagine.”

My shoulders slump. My bottom lip almost flips over.

Longbottom’s just psychoanalyzed me down to the core.

“But- Er, I- WHAT, um...” I stutter.

It’s quiet for a minute as I think about what Frank’s just said aloud. And for some odd reason, I get kind of angry. “You don’t know me,” I snap.

“Maybe not all of you,” he says amusingly. He finds my anger amusing, does he?

“Oh, yeah? And who are you, exactly?” I huff, crossing my arms.

Frank’s face kind of drops, but not in a sad way. Like he’s deeply thinking, and at the same time he’s disappointed. “I know who I am. I’m just not sure if I like who I am.”

“Yes, well-” I stop. Dumbledore's left toe! I think I've just witnessed Frank being honest for the first time! I’m so shocked and taken aback! Awe, Frank!

“But anyway, it doesn’t matter,” Frank nonchalantly hushes away, understanding the uncomfortable features shown on my face. I bite my lip.

“I think your okay.”

He looks up faster than I can say ‘fuckfuckfuck’. This, in reality, is all one word and is said in quite a rush, so that’s pretty fast. It literally takes lets than two seconds to say it if you pronounce it properly. Remember when I made it up? Oh, the events that night; just glorious. I push that little fiasco out of my mind for the moment and find myself staring at a surprised Frank Longbottom.

“…Thank you.”

I nod my head silently, not saying a word.

“I’ve also noticed something else about you.”

“And that would be?” I push.

“You’re kinda loyal.”

I blush slightly, but hide it with a little eye roll. “I am in Gryffindor, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. So is Jessica.”

I purse my lips, ready to defend my best friend. “Listen, I’m not here to rev your engine and say bad things about her,” Frank cautiously tells me, reading the look on my face.

“Then why’d you bring her up?”

“I don’t know.”


“No, really, Evans. All this arguing and such that I go through with her almost everyday, it’s taking my head for a whirlwind. I have no idea why, but I might have a hunch. And I think I’ve figured it out. Actually, just now. This is kind of why I ran all the way to the library. Because this thoroughly freaked me out and I thought I could maybe think things through.”

I lift my hands up. “WAIT, are you trusting me with this? Is that why you’re sharing this with me?”

“Nope. I’m incoherently letting you in on something.”

I smile. “Really.” It’s not a question.

“Don’t taunt. Trust me, I don’t trust anyone.”

“Okay, whatever, go on, say it…” I nag. Just get to the point!

“I think Finelly and me, or maybe just me, have some sick twisted idea in our minds that if we argue with each other, we’re taking out all that internal frustration out. Random frustration. Frustration we make up to make us seem like we have a point to argue. I know it’s crazy, but that’s why I was kind of weirded out when you saw me come in just now. I was hesitant because we came out of Potions not too long ago; and I didn’t want to run into her and argue again, because I wanted to figure this out first, or else it would nag me to no end. That’s why I was running like a pig, up here to the library, cautiously on the look out for Finelly.”

I throw Frank a look.

“Bloody hell, Frank. You’re crazy.”

“What. Ever. Just. Listen,” he spits, obviously annoyed. “I don’t have a reason to argue with her. But for some reason, I can’t stop myself.”

My mind wanders to how Jessica said she felt about her and Frank.

Didn’t she tell me that she had no idea why she was always on his case, but always got in it with him every chance she got?

With my eyes wide, and my fingers doing this weird dance of my recognition, it’s easy to visual me belting out, “WOAH!” out of no where.

“SHUT UP! Nancy Drew time, you mangy mongrel!” Madame Pince has just popped up from her library counter and greeted us with her presence. NOT.

Hold on, was she under there reading her book this ENTIRE time!?

Before I can gather my mind she disappears behind the desk again.

“Somebody stuck a pole up her arse,” Frank bluntly states.

“Hey, Jessica says ‘arse’ kinda weird; did you know that?” My mouth says, before I can stop myself.

He frowns. “Yes, I know she does.” He breathes out his nose and cracks his elbows.

Yeah, I have no idea how someone can crack their elbows but Frank does it somehow.

“The thing is, you’re a decent person; and I wanted to let you know that I don’t plan on skinning Jessica Finelly alive or anything. But I just get carried away with the death threats, you know?” He’s scratching the back of his head.


“I can’t find the reason why I have to verbally battle her all the time; I can’t stop, though. No matter how much I try to find some common ground about it, she just waltzes down the hallway and I just have this big urge to flick her in the face, or throw my shoe at her.”

Uh, who’s confused?


“Then don’t argue with her, obviously. Don’t go anywhere near her.”

His eyes bore into mine for a few long seconds.

“I can’t stop. It’s like an addiction. I can’t pass up the offer to poke fun,” he says strongly.

I suck in my lips and smack them out in realization.
Jessica doesn’t know why she can’t tolerate him.
Frank has no idea he’s always arguing with her.


They’re thinking the same way, and neither knows it!

I laugh out loud.

This is too much fun to share; I’m just going to keep this to myself.

Jessica and Frank – THE SAME! AHAHA.

 “So not funny!” He’s looking alarming. Frank has no idea, does he? Poor fellow probably thinks Jessica wants him burned at the stake.

“Let me give you some advice.” I say this for all the wrong reasons; seeing the reaction on his face being one of them.

He glares at me.
“Don’t think anything of it. You’re not the only one in this position, mkay?”

Frank squints at me with his right eye. “Er, okay?” he tries on.

“Alright,” I say happily, folding my hands.

“Do you live near Jess or something? Because you two seem rather close.”

“I’ve known her since First Year; best mates ever since, and no- she doesn’t live near me. Not terribly far, but just not in the same city. I live in London.”

“Meh,” he says with no desire. He just waves off London.

Frank is NOT allowed to use my word and shoo away my city. “I like living in London,” I defend.

“Everybody likes living in London,” he responds plainly.

“There’s no complication there.”

“What’s wrong with a little bit of complexity in your life? It wouldn’t hurt.” He’s saying this with a pointed smirk.

I hate you, Frank. “My life is nothing but complicated.”

He tilts his head to the side, eyes glistening. “That’s not true,” he tells me in a sing song voice.

“Yes, it is. And it doesn’t help when people annoy me.” I eye his figure.

“I hope your not talking about me.” He folds his hands and rests them on the table.

“What are you doing, then?”

“I’m simply imposing.”

“Hah. Imposing, my ass.”

“Language, Evans,” he taunts with a grin.

“Who are you, Frankie boy? An angel from the heavens that looks over me?”

“Don’t call me Frankie boy, please,” he says exasperatedly.

“I’ll call you whatever I want.” I stick my tongue out.

“Well, aren’t you quite the hostile child.” The sarcasm…It’s appearing like smoke.


“That’s what happens when you’re the baby of the family,” I say, with a bit of gloom in my voice.

He notices this. “You don’t like to talk about your family, do you?”

I snap back to reality, letting go of that momentary sadness. “Hey, it’s my turn to ask you the questions now. And I want answers.”

He looks at me as if I’ve sprouted horns.

“I’m out of here.”

Frank Longbottom leaves me in the middle of the library, and takes off. Now I’m alone. With two awkward Third Years giggling as they look through a book about Cornish Pixies and how they mate, and Madame Pince who’s probably hibernating behind her desk with the Chronicles of Nancy Drew: Twelfth Edition.

Thanks, Frank.


I’m thinking about it again. That dark place in my mind.

Do you remember before I boarded the train to Hogwarts, I had thought about something that was shoved in the back of my head? It had been something I was never fond of talking about, and I’ve only told Jessica. All that’s affected me, every thought that’s made me what I am; it hurts thinking about it again. Through out lunch today, I kept referring back to what Frank said about me, and how he noticed I didn’t like talking about family. It triggered my brain, and I thought about it again.

I’m going to be honest now, just incase it comes up again, there won’t be any confusion. The certain events that caused my insecurities, the things that happened in my life that changed everything…

Maybe the little man in my head will understand.

While I was getting dressed the morning I left for Hogwarts, I thought about how this was my Sixth Year, and I just had one more year until my real life would begin. I thought about old memories, the way things used to be. My mother, my sister, and James…

Three factors that changed big time as I grew up.

I can handle it now, but just thinking about it makes me uncomfortable. As the years progressed, I learned how to hide them in the dark corners of my mind. If I just didn’t think about it, I’d get over it. And I kind of have. But for Frank to notice quickly, and very intently, that I didn’t like thinking about the past, it made me hesitant to think about the future without wandering through my memories. Jessica understood how I was, and why I was, uncanny and indecisive, amongst other things as well.

Petunia, the sister I still love, doesn’t like me anymore. She thinks I’m some weird freak with supernatural powers. She used to be my best friend, kind of. I had a big sister, and I always thought of her as a mother figure, in a way. By this time my mother had already died. And when I got that letter from Hogwarts, everything went to crap. I tried to fit my mind around it, and maybe see it from Petunia’s point of view so I could understand her. And I couldn’t. I wasn’t a mutant, and my epidermis didn’t turn green. I wasn’t going around my house in rags with a mole on my nose and a black pointed hat. All I wanted to do was be accepted by her. And for the first time ever… I felt rejected. I used to be so much more outgoing. But the thing was- my confidence and freedom was slowly disappearing before Petunia started hating me. Before I even ran to her with open arms. I had already changed before I got to that point, way before I got that acceptance letter.

I was friends with James Potter for years. Before I looked up at Petunia for guidance, it was just him and I. Almost every day, we’d play together. And when he slowly started drifting apart from me, that’s when I guess I started changing. Or rather, he started changing. By the time I was with Petunia, in which I drifted towards her because I felt alone, I was almost in shambles. I couldn’t take the loneliness, so I attached myself to Petunia, in a close sisterly sense, and she seemed to be fine with it. James and I were acquaintances for a while, and- again- when my acceptance letter came, he’d completely change on me. I could no longer look at him and recognize who he was. Our friendship by that point… it went away slowly, and that letter from Hogwarts confirmed it to a halt. Honestly, I thought that since we’d be going to the same school, James and I would patch things up again, and everything would go back to normal. Instead, I had to deal with knowing for a fact that I had lost my best friend and my sister fully when that envelope was ripped open. He found friends quickly, and barely even greeted me anymore. But before Petunia, before James, there was my mother. Petunia turned on me when I got the letter, but James had turned on me and started pushing me away when my mom died.

My mother, a muggle born, whom I loved dearly, died when I was 8 and a half. James knew her well, and she would always let me play with him during the day. When she had passed, it was James who lost his interest in me, really. I needed him there, as my crutch. The one person that I knew would be there for me; and he slowly started to leave me alone. I didn’t know what to do about it, because I had to change myself as well. It’s complicated, I know. But I had to change for my father, for my family. Everything was pressured on me, and all I needed was just James to come over and talk to me again, but he didn’t. The days leading to the Hogwarts letter, he had stopped calling me and stopped coming over. It didn’t feel rejected like I did with Petunia, though. No. She was my family, the only thing I really had left, and that was the first time I actually felt rejection. James letting me go was… a change. Not a rejection. Two completely different things.

I still love my sister. I still love my mother.

But I don’t know what to think of James.

And most of all…I HATE change.

That’s why… everything is the way it is. James had started asking me out around the middle of First Year, and I thought he was crazy. But then he never stopped asking me out. I could see his friends laughing, and I felt like crying. It was a cruel joke he was pulling. He hadn’t talked to me in months and then he targeted me as a use of laughter. It was embarrassing, and it hurt. James was mean enough to do that to me, and I got angry at him. How could he? How could he just forget who I was before going to this school? What was I to him? A challenge, of course.

That’s why I never gave him a chance, because he didn’t need one. He didn’t deserve one. James just thought of me as something he pretended to be interested in. And I knew that. James Potter didn’t like me (and he still doesn’t). I had realized that when he had turned into a jerk, I didn’t care about being friends with him. I just let him go, like he did with me, except I didn’t make fun of him. He wanted to push me away, right? Well, I left him alone. He had friends, and I had Jessica. By that point, that was enough for me. I might have respect for him now, but I still think he’s a prick. Maybe not as bad as the other pricks at Hogwarts, but he’s in the top ten for sure, in my opinion.

I had the right to be mad back then, didn’t I?


My eyes met Peter Pettigrew’s as he sat in the armchair across from me in the common room. “Peter?” I ask, surprised to find him talking to me.

He gives a small smile. “Hey. Are you alright? You’ve been looking a bit forlorn since we came back from lunch, and that was a couple hours ago.”

I take a deep breath, and clasp my hands. “That’s nice of you to ask how I’m doing Peter, but I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“…Okay.” He gives me an awkward smile and gets up off the armchair. Jessica quickly fills the space.

She’s beaming, her dimples in full view. This makes me at ease a little. Some good news, I’m guessing?

“Freaking shit, you will not believe what I just saw!”

“Enlighten me,” I say with a smirk. This must be good.

“Emma- Sirius- In hallway- ARGH! I CANNOT EVEN EXPLAIN…”

A.N. - hey! :] Okay so lemme say this chappie was WAY longer and I had to cut it off by ALOT of pages, because I went past the limit of characters for a chapter! lol well that's a first... Here she is for you, guys! And yes, JAMES IS NEXT :D